Classic Poem

I.

Where by Darro's evening waters
Hang the weeping willows low,
There they sat, the twilight's daughters,
Ever beautiful with woe: —
Murmuring songs of fitful sorrow, —
Sorrow mingled with such sweetness,
That it would not know completeness
But for softening tears that borrow
From the yielding heart compliance; —
And such touching, fond reliance
On the rapture of the morrow, —
That the hearer weeps for pleasure,
As the music o'er him creeps,
And he finds increasing measure,
In his pleasure, that he weeps!

II.

Sleeps he then beside the waters,
By that twilight song oppress'd;
Softly gliding then, the daughters
Steal beside his rest; —
Three young maids of touching sweetness,
Born of dew, and light, and a'r,
Mourning still the life of fleetness,
That belongs to birth so rare! —
Yet, so human still their 'plaining,
In his heart strange pangs arise,
And a new life they are gaining,
From the drops that fill his eyes.
Reason good for sorrow's power,
In that sad and dreaming hour —
Far beyond their hapless plight,
Is his own and kindred birth; —
Born of air, and dew, and light,
He is also born of earth!